She passed by Jean, who was listening smilingly to her song.
“Good morning, Monsieur Jean,” said she with a bow.
“Do you know me?” he asked in surprise.
“Why, of course! I am the daughter of Trélaz, the farmer at Le Maupas.”
“Jeannette?”
“At your service.”
“But you were about the size of a boot then! And now you are taller than ripe corn.”
Nothing makes us so conscious of the flight of time as the growth of children whom we see but now and then. The flattered girl began to laugh, and although her teeth were badly cared for yet her joy was contagious. As she passed on, she repeated the last verse.
“’Tis the heart of my love
That I have wounded.